Miles stretched behind her, from the depths of the Aurora Basin where her heart rested gently, awaiting her eventual return, the girl small and delicate. Her frame, nearly white, was gilded softly with the hints of gold and ice blue, making her look much like the sunrise of a cool, winter morning. The exception to this muted, modest coloring rested in the vibrant life of spring dancing forth from her eyes. Large, soft lavender irises peer out into this strange area with excitement, the world around her still green despite the harsh warmth of the summer sun.

Amid the lush terrain resided a structure that reminded her much of her former home, wrought of finely carved marble and decorated with stained glass. Despite its obvious age, the structure resounded with an air impervious to time's ravages, beautifully ornate and powerful. The air around it twisted with silent melodies, carried by the wind. The dance of ghostlike figures from Zyanya's memories rush forth, filling the rotunda's floor with their lively dances. Mares with perfectly kempt hair, braided fashionably, delight in the sight of the kaleidoscope of colors shining under the light of summer onto the floor, their backs, their faces. Warmly, she smiles, and the figures disappear from her mind, leaving the rotunda in stark loneliness.

Instead, the cheerful air of celebration from the past is replaced by the same, time-weathered and beautiful vibrations of the structure. Then, the sound of a bird, shrill and grating against her ears, draws her immediate attention. A flick of her delicate ears catches more of the sounds, along with the hushed baritone of a stallion's voice. Her head turns to see them, an odd pair, standing not far away.

While she was likely in plain view, the stallion seemed to have his entire attention focused on the tiny bird he nestled near. The sight of a cracked egg revealed the reason - the bird had just arrived from the egg, bursting forth with a new life. Slowly, as not to frighten the young bird or its master, Zyanya waltzes over, taken aback as she her eyes fall upon the limbs sprouting from the golden stallion's back.

Wings, she thinks wondrously, face drawn slack, her eyes blinking a multitude of times to try to clear the hallucination, much like the dancing mares from her past, to no avail. Mouth agape, breath drawn lazily and infrequently, her mind speeds forward for an answer - all to no avail. She remembers Seanan, the stallion starkly absent a horn, being unusual to her at first, but this man held wings larger than her own body, undoubtedly allowing him flight.

The thought causes another wave of amazement to render her speechless, and it took several moments for her to regain her wits. Surely, had he noticed her approach, he would think she were insane at this point. Awe gives way to embarrassment, followed shortly by the horror that she stared, slack-jawed and idiotic, at this stallion before even properly giving him a greeting.

Stuttering, her voice falls out in ugly waves. "H-hello," the voice is weak and uncertain, a blush usurping her cheeks, but hidden under the pale fibers of her coat. "I'm Zyanya." The name is offered, perhaps as a sort of peace offering. Her eyes tear away from his wings with great effort, moving instead to his face. She finds the countenance to be classically handsome, with bright blue eyes that reminded her of gentle waters in the sunlight. Next, her vision turns toward the small bird, also with piercing blue eyes, who seems strangely developed for a newborn bird.

Strange, she thinks to herself. Though, certainly not a strange as a stallion boasting enormous wings. "She's beautiful," her voice holds an innate smile, matching the one that beams now upon her perfectly carved features.

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